Mountain Climbing
by googleit6
Summary: Malik and Altair have always had a strange relationship. From the death of Kadar, to the friendly chat of two brothers, is it only a matter of time before the inevitable happens? **SLASH. ALT/MAL AU ONESHOT**


**AN: **Wow! I apologize for being away for so long! I know that whoever reads my stuff probably wants Sitting on the Edge of Oblivion, but Malik has been a little bitch lately, and is giving me a really hard time, so, we have some difficulties to work out.

Okay, this story is a little... different than my usual writing. Let it be said that I have NEVER WRITTEN A SEX SCENE IN FULL DEATIL, EVER. This is my first attempt, and I acted like a total tool while writing it, because I am obviously not mature enough to be writing these kinds of stories. But oh, well. I present to you, my first, can-only-be-written-late-at-night-or-else-it's-super-awkward oneshot!

* * *

Altaïr flew across the rooftops of Jerusalem, racing his shadow. The sprawling city laid out before him, full of citizens completing their daily business, having no idea that their lives could be ended so quickly, so quietly-a blade to the throat, a sword penetrating the soft flesh of the stomach, a throwing knife embedded at the base of the spine. So many possibilities.

But Altaïr was not a killer of innocents. Those he killed were evil men. Men who deserved to die, to burn. To rot in a hole in the ground.

Altaïr bridged the gap between two low buildings, and launched himself off the other side of the building, grabbing hold of a window sill. He propelled himself up the wall, his well-trained hands and feet finding the most inconspicuous ledges to use. He silently ran across the flat rooftop of a shop, jumped onto a wooden platform, then found ground of a familiar building.

Dropping into the Assassin's Bureau with little more than a soft _thump_, Altaïr heard Malik moving about in the other room. It made him smile- something he rarely did. It also made him think about Malik.

Not too long ago, Malik had hated Altaïr- and with good reason. Altaïr was the reason Malik no longer had a left arm, or a brother. Altaïr's arrogance and insolence had cost Malik his one surviving family member, and had earned him many, many lectures from Al Mualim on the Brotherhood, and the sacredness of the three tenets that Altaïr had broken, all during one mission. And that complete disregard for the Creed had taught him many things, including how to feel remorse, and how isolated he really was.

However, over the months, as Altaïr matured and learned to respect the Creed, and the members in it, Malik had taken an unexpected liking to the Master Assassin. Every time Altaïr was assigned a target in Jerusalem, Malik would be happy to have him. To talk, to jest, whatever the mood of the time required. Having a true friend in the Creed was much more gratifying than Altaïr could have ever realized. As an assassin, he had always been taught to neglect emotion, but having a relationship with someone other than his blade had opened him to feelings he had never before dreamed he would ever understand, let alone feel.

Comradeship was warm. Altaïr wasn't sure if it was his being emotionally cold for most of his life, and then finding a true friend, or just a part of who he was, but it seemed that Malik's and his relationship had always meant something…more. Something more than the standard friendships that were seen in daily life. Altaïr didn't know what that something more was, but he always felt honoured to understand that there was something there. It was _special_.

"Safety and peace, Malik." Altaïr greeted as he walked into the second room of the bureau.

"Ah, Altaïr! Welcome, welcome!" Malik responded merrily, smiling at the Master Assassin. "What brings you to Jerusalem today? I have not had a message from Al Mualim."

"I'm sure it will be along shortly." Altaïr assured him, standing in front of the desk separating him and his friend. "Perhaps it has slipped Al Mualim's mind."

"Perhaps it has." Malik echoed. "Should I wait for the order, or would you like to tell me who your target is yourself?"

Altaïr's mouth curved at the corners. "Let us wait. It will be a surprise."

Malik pondered this. "A surprise, you say? This must be quite an important person. I would think that you would like to gloat about your superior assassination abilities, not hide them."

"What if the hiding of my skills is merely a demonstration of how an assassin _should _behave. Therefore, by hiding my "superior skills", as you call them, I am drawing hardly any attention to myself at all…Which makes it that much more grandiose when I finally do complete my task. A slow, simmering soup mixed with care tastes better than a chef who uses many fancy tricks and illusions, but creates a mediocre soup, do you not agree?"

Malik smiled, but not with his eyes. "Of course I agree." He turned away, and reached for a book on the shelf. "If you based your assassination skills on how well you do not call _my_ attention to yourself, you would be sorely lacking in skills, I am afraid," Malik mumbled bitterly, pulling a random book off the shelf.

"What was that, Malik?" Altaïr asked, looking surprised.

Malik internally cursed. Why, oh why would he mumble something so personal around an assassin- a Master Assassin, no less- who had impeccably trained and honed skills? _Including _eavesdropping.

"I was reading the titles on my books." Malik responded quietly, feeling a flush creep up under his collar.

Altaïr looked at him quizzically. Suddenly, though, a smile broke across his face, like the waves broke out at sea- it was sudden, powerful, and all-encompassing. Altaïr hardly ever smiled, and Malik's heart fluttered when he realized that _he _was the reason that his friend was smiling.

"What book did you choose?" Altaïr asked, opening the small door to the opposite side of the desk.

Malik looked down quickly, realizing too late that he had never even glanced at the title.

"Maps." Altaïr read, smirking. "What were you looking for, Malik?"

"I do not have to explain myself to you." Malik informed his friend, trying to keep as much venom out of the sentence as possible.

"Very well." Altaïr opened the book himself, and started looking at the different pages. He spent a good few minutes turning pages absently, as Malik merely looked on. Eventually, taking a deep breath, Altaïr asked a question that he knew could change many, many things very, very quickly.

"What did you _really _say, Malik?" Altaïr asked quietly. He did not need to clarify- Malik knew what he meant. Altaïr stopped turning pages, and looked at his friend with his probing, intense dark eyes.

Malik was taken aback, and said nothing.

"What did you say?" The words fell softly from the lips, but the eyes were betraying much fiercer emotions than mere inane curiosity. The eyes were smouldering, searching for answers that only Malik could give.

"I…I…" Malik was stumbling, looking anywhere but at his friend.

Altaïr did not know where his confidence had come from, but he was tired of waiting. Tired of wondering. Tired of hoping. This _something else _that had been on the fringes of his relationship with Malik had slowly but surely burrowed into the center of it, wrapping itself around every one of Altaïr's hopes and fears, his dreams and nightmares. It was telling him something that he hadn't even known he _could _feel. It was against everything he had ever been taught, but those thoughts hardly stayed long. Every single minute of learning about the proper ways of society, and being told of all the evils he would suffer if these thoughts even entered his _head_, was immediately overshadowed by a greeting, a mere smile from his friend.

How could something so evil be so wonderful, so all encompassing? And if it was evil, did he care? Did Malik?

Things were so tumultuous, so riotous, why couldn't he have one safe haven in the war zone? Something concrete to hold on to?

At that moment, Altaïr decided that he _could _have something concrete. Something honest, and safe, and comfortable and wonderful all at the same time. He just had to say one simple sentence, and let the rest of the pieces fall where they may.

"I heard what you said, Malik."

Malik's heart was beating almost clear out of his chest by now, and he was feeling extremely claustrophobic, with Altaïr on one side, and a stone wall on the other.

Malik swallowed nervously. "Yes?"

"Did you mean it?" Altaïr was speaking so intensely, and his eyes were displaying a dramatic mixture of hope, fear, and passion. It was by far the most emotion Malik had ever seen Altaïr exude, and it was overwhelming and wonderful at the same time.

Their fate was in Malik's hands. All that was needed was a one word answer, a nod or shake of the head. And yet, Malik froze up. So much emotion was rushing through him, he was afraid he would lose his footing, which was almost the most unimportant factor in the whole situation. He backed up against the stone wall, and Altaïr followed with his natural and learned assassin's grace. Their torsos were almost touching, and Malik felt, along with everything else churning inside him, electricity course through his veins, from his hair line to his feet, he was a live wire. If Altaïr moved any closer, he would be electrocuted. He would complete the circuit, though. So much power could not exist in one person. It had to be shared. Shared among those with a relationship like no other, a relationship with that _something else_.

Hesitantly, so hesitantly, Malik raised his right hand, and laid it ever so softly against Altaïr's chest. Looking down, for he could not look Altaïr in the face, Malik was waiting. Waiting.

And then it happened.

Malik felt a warm hand curl around his, and felt their fingers intertwine.

Finally able to look up, Malik saw Altaïr gazing down at him with eyes so warm and inviting and kind, it brought a lump to his throat.

Together, they felt Altaïr's heart beat through his robes. The beat resonated through both their hands. It was strong, pure, and beautiful. Malik took a step forward, so their hands were pressed against his chest as well. For the moment, the wildfire electricity in Malik's veins had died down, but something else was taking its place. Something was building up, something so potent that Malik felt it through all of his senses. He could hear it, see it, feel it, smell it, and even taste it.

Their hearts were pumping in unison. They were connected now, in an unalterable way, a statue carved out of the finest marble, a constellation in the sky. They were irrevocably unchangeable.

Malik was staring into the depths Altaïr's infinite gaze, and Altaïr was staring into Malik's adoring and awestruck eyes.

"I meant it." Malik whispered.

With one of his joyful, sweeping grins, Altaïr closed the distance between his mouth and Malik's.

There mouths met with fervour, a collision that brought about enough power to create a whole other galaxy. Planets, stars, moons, suns. The more heat, the larger the galaxy. In one fell swoop, Malik and Altaïr had travelled to their newly created galaxy, watching it unfold before their eyes. Like a map is filled in as more knowledge about surroundings is gained, Malik and Altaïr's universe was filled in as they gained more knowledge about each other.

Being pressed between the stone wall and Altaïr no longer made Malik feel claustrophobic, but safe. Altaïr now had both of his hands on either side of Malik's head, and slipped his tongue into Malik's mouth. Malik's eyes widened, but as Altaïr found a pleasurable pace, he felt his eyelids flutter.

Never had Altaïr taken his hood off in Malik's bureau. Bringing his hand up to remove the hood, Malik slowly pulled it back, stripping Altaïr of one of his most potent defence mechanisms. No more hiding.

Altaïr ghosted his fingertips along Malik's jaw line, making the rafiq shiver.

Malik's eyes were closed when he heard the muffled noise of leather and metal. Altaïr was still vey much connected with him, but he was now holding his hidden blade mechanism. When he saw Malik watching, he held it up and said,

"No accidents."

Malik smiled, Altaïr placed the hidden blade on the counter, and delicious friction returned.

The ruffling of robes was the only sound in the room, with intermittent sighs from one or both men in the corner.

Altaïr moved from Malik's lips to his throat, and Malik's knees grew weak. Sensing Malik's weakness, Altaïr hugged Malik to him. Malik melted into Altaïr's awaiting arms, and the Master Assassin was basically holding Malik up by himself.

Malik had shaped himself to Altaïr's body, letting Altaïr hug him closely. Evidently, Altaïr had had enough of that, as Malik felt himself being slammed against the wall. Altaïr brought his mouth to Malik's collarbone, but was not satisfied with the amount of skin that was uncovered. He couldn't reach Malik's full collarbone anyway, so, with feverish hands, Altaïr reached behind Malik and untied his robe. With the proximity or their bodies, Malik's robe couldn't fall past his waist. Altaïr didn't seem to mind, as he attacked Malik's collarbone, planting kisses and nipping at it as he went back and forth. Malik's head was thrown back, his teeth gritted in pleasure. Altaïr worked down Malik's upper body, pausing to admire his assassin's physique. Although Malik hadn't actually done any physical work in many months, he had retained his faultless body perfectly. His skin was smooth as marble, and his muscles were tight and lean. Altaïr let his fingertips wander over Malik's abs, and down his bare, hard-muscled arm.

Once Altaïr got to what was left of Malik's left arm, he froze. Malik felt him stiffen up, and opened his eyes to see what was going on. When he realized what Altaïr's dilemma was, he put his one hand on the Master Assassin's cheek.

"It is okay," He assured him quietly.

Altaïr looked horrified at the stump of Malik's arm.

Malik's stomach suddenly dropped. Maybe Altaïr wasn't nervous, but _disgusted. _Maybe he was realizing that this was all a huge mistake, and he was going to leave the bureau and never return. Maybe he would find a woman who was normal and beautiful, and he would forget all about Malik. In response to that thought, Malik automatically tightened his grip on Altaïr's wrist.

Meanwhile, Altaïr was too preoccupied with the remains of Malik's arm to notice the dejection and absolute humiliation that crossed his face. Very cautiously, Altaïr put his hand on Malik's left shoulder, and hesitantly leaned towards it. Very chastely, and very quickly, Altaïr pressed his lips to it.

"I am so sorry." He whispered, resting his head on Malik's shoulder. "I am so sorry that _my_ actions caused you and your brother such harm, and yet, I was not hurt in the slightest. I took your brother and your limb away from you, and yet here you are, welcoming me into your embrace."

Malik sighed in relief. Altaïr was worried about how his previous selfish actions had affected Malik. This was something Malik could fix. Altaïr's disgust, he could not fix.

"It is fine, Altaïr." Malik hugged Altaïr as strongly as he could, trying to emphasize his point with physical strength.

"No, it is not." Altaïr insisted. "It should have been _I _who got to face Robert on my own. It should have been _I _who had to pay for _my _own actions. And now, in some strange, beautiful twist of fate, I have been _rewarded, _of all things, for my utter selfishness and neglect of yours and Kadar's safety."

"Do you look upon Kadar's death as a blessing in disguise, then?" Malik challenged Altaïr, stiffening in his arms.

Altaïr froze. "That was not what I intended when I said that. I-I never..." He trailed off, looking stricken.

Malik had never heard Altaïr trip over his words before. It humanized him, somewhat, and made Malik feel like he was staring at Altaïr from across a plain, rather than from the base of a mountain. Malik had always been envious of Altaïr, and, when coupled with the loathing that Malik had felt upon Kadar's death, it led to plenty of resentment and unresolved anger.

But it had been a long time since then. Many things had changed, and, along with those changes were Malik's feelings for Altaïr.

And yet, every once in a while, a rage rose in Malik so quickly and so swiftly, that he could have sworn he felt his blood boil, felt his skin go white over his knuckles when he clenched his fists tightly enough to crush iron. Along with all of the other complications these revelations would bring tonight, Malik's anger and resentment towards the man he dreamed about was not needed or wanted. He would have to let it go- let it all go. No more anger or resentment. No more longing glances towards the empty air where his right arm used to be. No more raging in the bureau when he was alone, and no more tearing pages out of books when he realized that books were the only thing he could fight against without losing his life. No more anger.

Malik knew he was solving problems with more problems, yet he didn't care. To let go of all of his previous, out of control emotions would be a monkey off his back. Especially when _those _out of control emotions led to much more _welcome _out of control emotions- ones Malik was already looking forward to experiencing with Altaïr.

Altaïr cleared his throat awkwardly, and Malik met his anxious eyes with his own.

"I had not considered the implications behind my words until after I had uttered them." Altaïr explained. "I meant to explain my amazement in the direction the day has taken. I apologize if I offended you, or the memory of your brother. I never meant such a thing."

Malik felt himself smile. Altaïr had righted himself- no trace of a nervous stutter in sight. Just like that, Malik was at the base of the mountain again.

Somehow, he found he didn't mind this time. If Altaïr was more comfortable on a mountaintop, Malik was just fine slipping off the rocks at the bottom for the hundredth time.

"It is fine, Altaïr." Malik grinned, a lightness blooming in his chest. His heart was beating extremely fast, and the sight of Altaïr's lovely face started a fire in his stomach. A twinkle of mischief lit up his dark eyes like a candle, and he relaxed into Altaïr's arms.

Altaïr was surprised, but not unhappy with this development. Riding on Malik's sudden buoyancy, Altaïr pressed his lips against Malik's burning ones. Between the fiery kiss, Altaïr's roaming hands, and the rough texture of the wall behind him, Malik was dangerously close to a sensory overload.

Moving from Malik's lips to his throat, Altaïr kissed just below his jaw line, even stopping to nibble on it every few seconds. Malik groaned in pleasure, and felt heat course through his body.

Encouraged, Altaïr licked and nipped his way along Malik's collarbone. Malik let loose another groan, his hand gripping Altaïr's back hard enough to leave marks.

Altaïr pressed Malik against the wall, leaving no room between their overheated bodies- except the distance between their clothes and their skin.

Altaïr brought his lips back to Malik's, and, without breaking the kiss, Altaïr led him to the pile of cushions in the other room of the bureau. Malik laid down first, and Altaïr followed, hovering over him on all fours. His brown eyes were smouldering, filled to the brim with unbridled lust. His pupils were dilated almost to the point that the irises could no longer be seen.

Looking down at Malik, Altaïr felt his heart clog up his throat. With all that they had gone through, it almost seemed inevitable that they had ended up here, finding solace in each other's arms. Altaïr believed that it was more than that, though. Whenever he looked at Malik, it was as if an unseen force was at work, drawing them together. An instinct older than time itself, just _knowing _who one was supposed to be with.

With silent assurances from Altaïr, and equally silent assents from Malik, the master assassin slowly slid off the rest of the _dai_'s robe, right before he slipped out of his own. Altaïr then drew Malik's lips to his own, and this kiss was not fuelled by passion, but by romance and sweetness. It was full of promises and declarations that would never be heard by anyone but the two men who were present at the time. A secret they would both carry to the grave and beyond.

Once the contentions were sealed with another sweet, passionate kiss, Altaïr looked down at Malik, and, wordlessly, Malik agreed.

While keeping his eyes on Malik, Altaïr brought his lips to the indent just below Malik's neck. He flicked his tongue out, and Malik quivered. Tracing a pattern with his tongue, Altaïr travelled down Malik's torso to his muscled, smooth pectorals. The trail Altaïr left burned red hot, and fuel was only added to the fire when Altaïr flicked his tongue over Malik's nipple, causing an intense flare up of the already scorching flames. Malik quivered, and then cried out as Altaïr grazed his teeth over the pert nipple, circling it with his tongue. The embers in Malik's lower body were being tended to by a white hot fire poker, and more and more kindling was being added, only to be engulfed by the hungry embers are soon as they came into contact with them.

Altaïr switched to Malik's other nipple, and the sudden cold air caressing the left pectoral only heightened the sensation of overheating. Malik threw his head back and arched his back as Altaïr continued to tease his other nipple. Malik felt a hiss escape his lips as Altaïr grazed his teeth over the erect nipple, but this time, biting slightly harder, bringing the sensation to a new level. Malik arched his back further, gritting his teeth as Altaïr continued to tease him.

Flicking his tongue out again, Altaïr continued his trail down Malik's torso. He encircled Malik's naval, then darted his tongue in and out quickly, before kissing his way down even further. He heard Malik's breathing increase even more as he slid his tongue down Malik's extremely hard length. Malik gasped, then sucked in air so fast is sounded like he was choking. Altaïr brought his head up to make sure everything was okay, and saw that Malik was gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut like his life depended on it. Smirking, Altaïr felt a shot of heat course through his body as he gazed upon Malik's concentrated face.

Returning to the task at hand, Altaïr took Malik's length in his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of Malik's shaft while grazing his teeth along the top of it. Altaïr couldn't see it, as he was concentrating on what he was doing, but Malik was grasping the pillows with his fist, his breathing coming short and shallow.

Altaïr started to slide his mouth back and forth, now dragging his teeth gently along the top and bottom of Malik's length. The fire was blazing now, in Malik's abdomen, and it was only a few drops of accelerant away from engulfing itself.

Sensing that Malik was almost at his peak, Altaïr picked up his pace, using his teeth, his tongue, and travelling all the way to the base of Malik's length. He only had time to make two rounds before Malik's fire reached the point at which it started to burn itself out. Malik thrashed about, biting his bottom lip, breathing rapidly. His eyes were wide open, and he was floating in pure bliss.

Altaïr swallowed, smiled, wiped his mouth, and climbed over Malik on all fours, like a predator over its prey. He stared down at the amazed Malik with zealous, burning eyes, and asked a silent question. Malik's awed eyes were all the answers Altaïr needed.

Slowly, Altaïr entered Malik, who gasped and moaned. Altaïr muttered reassurances and utter, sweet nonsense, keeping Malik with him. Malik felt his senses singing. Only a few minutes ago had he been afraid of sensory overload. Now, he was wanting more, needing Altaïr closer, even though that was almost impossible.

Gradually, Altaïr picked up the pace, as Malik tossed and groaned below him. To silence him, Altaïr lent forward, pressing his lips to Malik's. Malik moaned as Altaïr took his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking. Malik in turn took Altaïr's top lip, and linked his fingers with Altaïr's. Altaïr put his right hand under Malik's neck, and lifted, so he could get a better angle to his mouth.

Altaïr and Malik were now linked in every way. They were together in the truest sense of the word. They were almost _part _of each other.

Altaïr continued to pick up the pace, while Malik thrashed below him. Tension was building, and Malik's stomach was on fire. His face was flushed and his eyes were gleaming. The tendons in Altaïr's arms were flexing as he thrust forward, making Malik cry out. The tension was climbing exponentially, each thrust bringing double the sensation that the last one had. Malik was tingling all over, and Altaïr's fingertips were leaving marks in the flesh of Malik's hips.

The colours of the cushions below Malik were unnaturally bright, and they were swimming together, making one, delicious colour. Altaïr felt the pressure building, and it was building fast. Both of the assassins' bodies were glistening and trembling with the continued heat and friction.

Finally, as he couldn't take any more, Malik felt himself flying. The coil inside him sprang, sending him quivering and shuddering uncontrollably. Every sensation was increased tenfold, which meant that every single feeling that Malik had been trying to let go of the night was coursing through him one last time, lighting his blood on fire. The anger, resentment, and sadness made its face known for the last time as Malik finally let go.

Seeing Malik reach his peak forced Altaïr over the edge, and he climaxed, seeing a kaleidoscope of jewel bright colors. They danced in front of his eyes as his muscles twitched and convulsed. Panting heavily, Altaïr collapsed beside Malik on the bed of cushions. Malik was breathing hard, his eyes wide.

Silently, Altaïr opened his arms to Malik, who eagerly climbed into his embrace. Altaïr tenderly kissed Malik on the lips, and touched his forehead with his own.

"Thank you," Altaïr whispered, and Malik smiled.

Altaïr then broke out into a smile that was large enough for the two of them.

This was a beginning. The start of a new journey, and they weren't travelling the path alone. They had each other.

The assassin at the top of the mountain then descended to help his struggling mate, and together, they looked towards an even higher obstacle- the sky. Nothing could stop them now.

* * *

**AN: **That was fun, wasn't it? Okay, so, this might seen like a strange choice to write a SLASH fic as my first lemon, but a friend really likes this stuff, and I was doing it for practise for something else that I am supposed to be writing for her. (And procrastinating superbly on, I might add.) I hope you enjoyed this lovely, awkward piece of writing, and this just-as-awkward author's note. Cheers ! :)


End file.
